She is Mine
by maggie5
Summary: An alternate ending to everyone's favourite movie. Begins as Satine is looking at the gun pointed at Christian backstage while he's ranting senselessly. Heavy angst.


An alternate ending. I hope it's not clichéd, I don't read this fandom, just saw the movie tonight (01/12/02). If anyone's done this before, I seriously apologise, I haven't read it. This begins where Christian is ranting at Satine, trying to pay her, as Satine sees the gun pointed at Christian. Backstage. Yeah. I've only seen it once. I hope my parents will watch it soon and let me see it again, as they don't know I've viewed it. And I hope they don't find out I did without their consent. And I hope you like this.  
  
"NOOOO!!!!" Her voice, crystal, pierced like winter's icy breath…penetrating, clear.  
  
She flung out her arms desperately, regardless of the narrow passageway.  
  
"Satine!" Christian screamed. "Tell me you love me!"  
  
"Christian, I…" She threw herself into his chest…pushed him aside…pain…  
  
Thunder.  
  
Lightning.  
  
Smoke.  
  
Pain.  
  
Pain, like she'd never felt before. Crimson blood, spurting from her back…a gushing tide of roses against her pale skin…Christian…my love…  
  
She fell backwards, instinctively clutching upwards.  
  
Strong arms, encircling her slender waist. Falling into the embrace.  
  
So warm…  
  
So tired…  
  
"Chris…Christian…b…beauty…beautiful Christian…my…my Christian…my darling…" Must tell him…"Love…mine…my love…Chris…Christian…"  
  
"Satine! No! Don't…don't leave me this way! I can't survive!" He looked down at the woman cradled in his arms in disbelief. Her red locks cascading around her pale, heaving shoulders…  
  
Tears…falling onto her face…but whose? Hers? His? His…hers….the same…one…through love…  
  
The prostitute…the writer…  
  
The writer, the prostitute.  
  
The courtesan, the sitar player  
  
The sitar player, the courtesan  
  
One  
  
Through love  
  
Together  
  
Forever  
  
Until the end of time…  
  
Soon…  
  
The end…  
  
Soon…  
  
Together  
  
So warm.  
  
So very….  
  
So very tired…  
  
It didn't matter…nothing did…  
  
If this was dying, it wasn't so bad…  
  
Why, she could be flying…but her body? Or her heart? Her mind…anything…she was…one…with herself, with Christian…with the Moulin Rouge…with Paris…with France…the Earth, the sky….leave all this to yesterday…  
  
"Satine! My Satine! No! They…they can't…"  
  
"Christian…" she murmured, again. "Love…I…love….you…seasons…winter… spring…come…come…"  
  
"Come what may," he whispered, lowering her to the ground. He lay beside her crumpled form. "I will love you…"  
  
"This is…my dying day." Her chest rose…fell…rose…fell…rose….  
  
Fell….  
  
Her eyes…sparkling sapphires…dulling…dull sapphires…no longer limpid…dull…so tired…closing…shut…  
  
Rose…  
  
Fell…  
  
And did not rise again.  
  
Shattering one man's heart…and his scream, angry, chilling, shattered the silence of the theatre.  
  
Flinging himself at the shocked assassin, who was still standing there, he unleashed physically the primal desire for revenge that had been so embodied in that one bloodthirsty yell upon the unfortunate man.  
  
Fearless, naive, he tried in vain to strangle him.  
  
He was shot like a dog….  
  
The howls of the animal filled the night. Cries of anguish…of pain…of a love…returned…  
  
And lost.  
  
Silence.  
  
A cruel laugh.  
  
The Duke rises from his seat, pushing aside the motionless players. Lifting her lifeless body (with some effort) with his thin, pale arms. Taking the corpse, appealing, sensual, even in death, into his arms, falling with it centre stage. Burying his face the luscious hair…exploring the cold but utterly yielding woman with his hands…  
  
"She is mine."  
  
  
  
The end.  
  
The Moulin Rouge, Christian, Satine, and other registered trademarks property of Baz Luhrmann, Craig Pearce, and Bazmark Inq. and their respective owners. I really am unsure who to attribute them to, please don't sue, remove my story, or think I'm plagarising…we all know they don't belong to me. Although I'm going to write something like it one day, I hope. This scenario came into my head as I was watching Moulin Rouge for the first time…I seriously thought she was going to take the bullet. I guess I was wrong. But I wrote this anyway. I can't seem to get it out of my head. I hope this will help. (Is anyone else reminded of Bizet's Carmen either in Moulin Rouge or in this fic? Please tell me I'm not insane.)  
  
If you enjoyed this, or even if you didn't, please leave a review, either at ff.n, or in my mail (magentamuppet@yahoo.com). Either works, and I'd love to hear from you.  
  
My first attempt at this fandom (I'm a Harry Potter gal, really), as I've said. Shall I have another go? 


End file.
